Comfort
by zosimos
Summary: Reverse'verse - It's flu season again, joy. Roy is not a fan.


Roy Mustang was sick.

It was not anything serious by a wide margin. He had had the sniffles all week, discreetly coughing into his shoulder when he could get away with it and into sneezing into his handkerchief. He was tired, the fatigue of sickness dragging down at him even as he tried to keep up with the piles, and piles of paperwork he had been putting off since the beginning of the month. He thought he was doing a decent job of disguising his sickness, but it was perhaps the illness that made him think that, as Lieutenant Hawkeye marched into his office Friday morning and told him to take himself home.

If Lieutenant Hawkeye told him to go home, you better believe Roy was going to obey her. He packed himself up, went home, and fell into bed.

The week had not been any busier than the end of the month last month, it just felt a hundred times more exhausting because of this lingering sickness. Roy did not get sick often, or if he did he fought it off by sheer willpower. However, there was something about the cold, the change of seasons and the damp that seemed to invade everywhere that mixed in to concoct some kind of sickness in his lungs. He would go in to the infirmary in the morning and get himself checked out - he sincerely doubted it was anything serious, but the fact that Hawkeye sent him home worried him a great deal.

Roy slept until nearly dusk, when someone pounding on his front door roused him from a murky, dreamless sleep. He was discombobulated by being in bed at home and not sitting at his desk, but he shuffled out of bed and threw on a dressing gown.

When he opened his front door, he expected it to be Lieutenant Havoc or even possibly Hawkeye to check up on him. He did not expect for his unannounced visitor to be one Edward Elric, staring up at him sullenly through damp golden bangs.

"Fullmetal," Roy said, clearly surprised by his appearance at his home. Edward knew where he lived, and had been over several times, in fact - but he was supposed to be in East City. Before he could open his mouth to ask what Edward was _doing_ here, the cough burbled out of his throat and he turned his head quickly, coughing into his hand.

"You _are_ sick," Edward said, sounding a little amazed. Roy looked at him, slightly put off by the surprise in Edward's voice.

"What are you doing here?" Roy asked instead. "I thought that you and Alphonse were staying in East City researching some leads." He smiled coldly. "I highly doubt that you came all the way back here just because of a little head cold."

"Not all the way from East City, no," Edward said. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder and resting against his hip, but both of his hands were jammed in the pockets of the winter variation of his infamous red coat. "But when Lieutenant Hawkeye said she sent you home, I thought it was more serious than that." He glanced down at the concrete stoop, before looking back up at Roy, gold eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Roy realized he must look a mess, his military trousers and button-down creased from sleeping in them, dressing gown and his hair must be stuck up at all angles. He tried to settle his hair by running his hand through it as he sighed aloud. "I am quite fine, Fullmetal. Just a little tired. I appreciate your concern-"

Edward pushed on the front door. Roy took a step back in surprise and Edward stepped over the threshold. "You don't look fine," Edward said. "'m comin' in."

"Fullmetal."

"If I leave 'm coming back with Al," he told Roy in no uncertain terms. "Lieutenant Hawkeye's tied up with ... somethin' I'm not supposed to tell you about, whoops." Edward shut the door behind him. "Someone's gotta look after your pathetic ass, Mustang."

"You'll forgive my hesitation," Roy said dryly. "I guess I'll go call the office and see what's going on, then."

"I will cut the telephone line if you pick up the receiver," Edward said. "Bed, or couch?"

Roy was getting a little dizzy standing there in the hall with the cool air seeping under the now-closed front door. He raised an eyebrow at Edward and tried unsuccessfully to hold back another coughing fit. "What?" he asked finally.

"Couch, then," Edward said. He prodded Mustang with his hands, and even through two layers and Edward's gloves he could feel the sharp, biting cold of the automail. Roy let himself be pushed, he knew very well that Edward was stronger than he looked.

The den was cold and dark. Roy sat on the sofa as Edward closed the draperies against the dying light of day and shut out the cold. Roy was a little spacey at the moment, but just watching Edward move was enough of a distraction. He moved so deliberately. Edward had taken his coat off already, leaving it folded over the back of a chair so the ends didn't drag on the floor, and his satchel on top of it.

There was a large hearth in the den - of course, Roy often had a fire lit even in the summer. Fire made him feel comfortable and safe, for all of its destructive power it was gorgeous and _alive_, always moving and changing.

He watched Edward crouch in front of the hearth, pulling aside the fire grate. It was quite dim now that he had closed the draperies, but the light that echoed out of the hallway reflected off of the shiny material of Edward's pants and put his derriere on full display for Roy. Edward was busy shuffling things around and when he turned around to see Roy staring very blatantly, he scowled. "Tinder and flint?"

Roy blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Jeez, you are definitely mentally disabled or something; stop staring at my _ass_, Mustang. Where's your tinder and flint?"

Oh, he wanted to start a fire. Roy could do that. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a glove, sliding it on to his right hand. Edward jumped back, startled, as Roy's snap set the logs aflame almost instantly. "Hey! WARN a guy, wouldja?"

Edward in the firelight. It was not the first time he had been so privileged, and Roy could only hope that it was not the last. He stood up and Roy could see that Edward had gotten taller in the months since he saw him last. He had filled out a little more, his profile was thicker with muscle; and now his braid hung well past his shoulder blades.

A golden, vibrant creature. So very much alive, just like his precious fire; and Roy was completely consumed by him.

"You have a radio hiding in here somewhere," Edward said, his hands on his hips. Roy started to get up off of the couch and Edward pointed a finger at him. "No, stop. You are _not_ getting off of that couch unless you have to go take a shit, you hear me, Mustang?"

"How very illustrative," Roy muttered. Still, he was rather amused at Edward's insistence and he was still very tired, so it would not be hard to comply.

Over the course of the next hour Edward constructed a nest of blankets for Roy, despite his insistence otherwise. He dug out the radio and turned it on softly, to a radio program that Roy did not recognize. He listened to the radio play for a while - he never really paid attention to the radio dramas, as he had plenty of real life drama to deal with and was largely busy during the times that they aired.

Then Roy realized that while he had been listening to the radio play, Edward had suspiciously been absent. He realized this about the time he started to smell something burning coming from the kitchen, and he put his head up in alarm at the smoke. "Ed?"

"Shitfuck - everything is FINE don't get UP," Edward called from the kitchen. There was an alarming clatter and another concentrated burst of swearing, and Roy was on his feet and trotting to the kitchen.

Edward was crouched on the floor, mopping up a sodden mess from where a stock pot overturned. He turned his head quickly, sensing Roy in the doorway, and snarled at him. "Go on, shoo. I've got this!"

He was staring a little faintly past Edward at the oven, where there were flames happily licking out the cracked door. Edward glanced over his shoulder at Roy's expression, swore again and popped the door down. Before Roy could even open his mouth Edward rolled the sleeve of his shirt up past the elbow and stuck his automail arm straight into the flames, pulling out a burnt hunk of - something that stank like burned flesh. Then he cut off the gas, and the flames very quickly burnt themselves out.

Edward picked up the burnt hunk of something and slammed it against the counter, where it left a dark mark. "Son of a bitch," he grunted. He turned and pointed at Roy. "Seriously, if you say a goddamn word I'll make you eat it like this."

"Whatever it is, I really don't think it's even _edible_ any longer," Roy said.

"Nah." Edward sighed and looked at it. "Sorry. I'm not very good at this cooking thing, Al usually does it. Looks like you'll have to settle for soup."

There was still one pot happily simmering on the burner that did not seem like it was getting ready to overflow or explode. "That's fine," Roy said after a moment. "I think soup will be wonderful, thank you, Ed."

Edward grunted and went back to mopping up whatever he had managed to overturn, but there was a slightly pleased look on his face. Roy smiled and coughed into his hand again. Then he picked up one of the dish towels and joined Edward in mopping up the broth.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, Edward's soup was actually very tasty, if a little salty. He also made tea, which was a skill that, if asked, Roy would have never, ever in a thousand years thought that Edward was capable of. He did not even know where he got the <em>tea<em>, given that Roy did not currently have any.

It was good tea though, with a hint of lemon and some honey added in. "Granny used to give me an' Al this whenever we got sick," Edward said, handing the mug to Roy carefully. He'd put his gloves back on - mostly so Roy wouldn't have to make contact with the cold automail when he felt so ill.

"No cream?" Roy asked humorously, just to see Edward's face contort at the thought.

"Hell no, if YOU want that vile-"

"Relax, Ed, I'm just teasing you."

Edward looked at him funny, and then scrubbed a hand through his bangs in exasperation. "You're not as funny as you think you are, Mustang."

"On the other hand, I happen to think I am quite hilarious," Roy said, sipping the tea and nearly burning the tip of his tongue.

Edward sat down on the couch beside Roy. Most of the blankets Roy had pushed off, it was quite warm in the room with the fire going. "You feel any better?" he asked, clearly still concerned.

Roy smiled and held out his arm, and Edward slid under it. "I feel very looked after right now, thank you, Ed."

"I should clean up the kitchen. Sorry I set your oven on fire."

"You didn't set anything else on fire, which is more than I can say for myself some days." Roy tangled his hand in Edward's hair, where it was loose and coming away from the braid. "Besides, sit here with me for a while. There's another one of these Timothy Quick radio dramas coming on and I really want to hear your input on his adventures."

He could not see Edward's smile without craning his head, but he could feel it in the way Edward's body relaxed. Edward pulled one of the blankets up and they settled together to listen to the radio.

* * *

><p>Edward really did <em>not<em> want to get out of bed. His sinuses hurt and he could at least breathe, even with half his face buried in the pillow. If he got out of bed he would start sneezing and coughing up shit and that was _not_ fun.

He fucking hated the winter. He had rolled himself into a ball of covers over the night and Rian had kicked him several times, but it was in his automail leg so all Rian had accomplished was bruising his toes. He was sick, he was tired, and like _hell_ he was getting out of this bed. There had to be an imminent apocalypse, like Hawkeye coming to get him, to warrant moving.

"Really," Rian clucked. His hair was damp from a shower, it lay a lot more flat when it was wet like that. He had seated himself on Edward's side of the bed and was currently checking Edward's temperature with the back of his hand laid on Edward's forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever, colonel."

"Don't care, not moving." He even _sounded_ sick, his voice thick with congestion. "Can't talk. Can't breathe. Sleepin'. Tell Hawkeye I'm dead. I'll be better tomorrow."

"Those exact words?" Rian sounded impressed. "You've got to teach me how you go from dead to better just like that."

"No one likes a literalist," Edward buried his face into the pillow and groaned.

Rian scritched his fingers through the hair at Edward's temple and Edward sighed a little, relaxing into the pillow. "I'll call you in sick, it's okay. I don't even remember you ever being this sick before."

"I have the immune system of a tank," Edward said into the pillow. "This is just a minor setback."

"Mmhm." Rian said. "I've got to go to the labs today, and some errands to run. I'll be back for lunch, what would you like?"

"Whiskey."

"Ed, that's not food."

"Sure it is." Edward raised his head and looked at Rian defiantly.

"No, it's not. What do you want for lunch?"

"'m too sick to eat. Bring me whiskey."

"Fine, I'll make you some soup then." Rian stood up and the bed creaked some. "Will you be fine for a few hours?"

"I'll sleep." Edward rolled from his stomach to his side and looked at Rian thoughtfully. "Tonight, can we-"

"_No_, Ed, you're sick. Jeez-"

"I wasn't gonna ask _that_." Edward huffed. "Althou' I bet a blow job would clear me right out."

Rian rolled his eyes. "You are such a _pervert._"

"Well, anyone would be when they have you to look at all day," Edward said thoughtfully. He smirked triumphantly at the blush that hit Rian's face. "I was gonna ask if we could sit together and listen to the radio."

Rian cocked his head curiously. "Sure, there's a radio program I wanted to listen to tonight anyway. But I thought you didn't like the radio?"

"It'll help me get better," Edward mumbled.

"Okay, sure," Rian laughed. "I'll be back for lunch, colonel." He brushed aside Edward's bangs and kissed him on the forehead. "Feel better."

Edward watched as he left the room. "Don't forget the whiskey!" he yelled as he heard the front door open. It latched closed securely and locked, and Edward sighed heavily, and then dropped his head back to the pillow, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. He was looking forward to tonight.


End file.
